<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Grand, Terrible, Very Not Good Injustice by AnorOmnis</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579869">A Grand, Terrible, Very Not Good Injustice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnorOmnis/pseuds/AnorOmnis'>AnorOmnis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:07:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnorOmnis/pseuds/AnorOmnis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Set in the same universe as 'In the Dark', can be considered a companion piece]</p><p>Peter reflects on how unfair the world is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Grand, Terrible, Very Not Good Injustice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The key to survival, in Peter’s opinion, was to know how to adapt to any person and situation. When the Muggle children down the road had bullied him, he knew he had to stay very, very still until someone else caught their attention. At home, when his mother would tear up because yet another one of her letters was returned, unopened, he knew he had to brew a fresh pot of tea and let her cry herself out, the poor thing. And when he started at Hogwarts, he knew what he had to be to become one of the Marauders. This particular act of survival had, as the years went by, become more real than he had bargained for. Through it all, one thing was for certain – he, Peter Pettigrew, was remarkably good at making the most of the shoddy hand life had dealt him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until rather recently, his optimism had remained steadfast. Peter had always known that he was different, and it had nothing to do with how the lights would flicker on and off when he lost his temper; Peter, you see, was destined to achieve great things. He had decided this the day the man who had sired him packed up his belongings and Disapparated, without so much as a backward glance at the son he was set to abandon. As he watched his father disappear and he watched his mother succumb to her grief, he thought rather disdainfully that when he was an adult, he would be a thousand times the wizard the two of them were combined. Then  when he entered the Great Hall for the first time, unable to suppress the awe overwhelming him, he knew nothing he had thought had ever been more </span>
  <span>true. In that moment, Peter could have dueled a werewolf with his grandmother’s wand and brought it to heel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Classes, as Peter quickly discovered, had none of the charm and all of the anxiety that had been contained in the Great Hall - lesson after lesson of increasingly complex magic, all poised to bring him to his knees, came dangerously close to doing just that. No sooner had he come to grips with Transfiguration was he was attacked by the ever-elusive Charms. Day after day, Peter pored over books he could barely comprehend, only to see, with a sinking heart, his own inadequacies laid bare. He observed his friends while they worked, certain that there was a secret to their success that they were withholding. This suspicion did not hold for very long, for the other three spent more time scheming than they did studying. Despite this, they could absentmindedly transform needles into match-sticks or levitate Flitwick’s hat as if it were the most natural thing, all the while doling out advice to him, condescending and impatient, as though he was a rather slow second-cousin– some people, </span>
  <span>realized Peter bitterly, just had all the luck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For moments like this, when the resentment would start to cloud his mind, Peter had forged a secret weapon: A list, short but faithfully etched into his mind: Sirius had a family that delighted in his pain, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so what </span>
  </em>
  <span>if he could get away with murder if he wanted; Remus was a werewolf</span>
  <em>
    <span>, so what</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it matter how well he did in class; James would never have Lily, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so what</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he had everything else. He would run through his list, over and over, until he was calm enough to plaster a smile on his face and join his friends on their next brilliant adventure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Often, he would feel guilty for taking comfort and reveling in his friends’ miseries. He would have to make himself scarce for hours, trying to will himself to be stronger and better. Half a day would pass, until he had finally dredged up the resolve to face them, a changed person, only to be greeted by half-hearted hellos and no acknowledgement of his long absence, let alone the magnitude of what he had achieved. The familiar tendrils of resentment would wrap themselves around him until he could scream from the unfairness of it all. But then he would pull out his list, reciting it over and over, until his heart would slow and he could once more be what was demanded of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But by the time sixth-year began, Peter’s list was teetering on the precipice of existence. Sirius had gained a new family in the Potters and the newfound love had anchored him in a way that was once inconceivable. Remus was no longer torn apart by his monthly transformation and, with the war raging, his job prospects seemed a trivial, distant problem that could not take detract from his unquestionable position as every teachers’ favourite. That James still occasionally faced rejection at the hands of Lily was a consoling thought, because it was, after all, James who had been handed the world – as long as he continued being denied this one thing, the universe would maintain some semblance of balance. The alternative – here, Peter could not help but shudder – was a world where someone could have absolutely everything and another person could have absolutely nothing. And if that were true, well – Peter wanted nothing to do with a world like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So in seventh year, when Lily’s rejections of James’ advances ceased to be cold and scornful, and when one not-fine morning, James passed Lily her favourite pudding before she had even asked, Peter was the first to notice. He could feel the tendrils tightening in shock and disbelief, and when he focused on his list, the relief that usually followed this exercise evaded him. He scrambled his brain for an explanation. Shockingly, he had one readily available, as though he had always known this was going to happen but had forgotten to clue himself in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Peter thought really hard about when it all began, he would have to say it all started when James’ parents died at the end of the summer before their seventh year. Peter had been thrilled to have been </span>
  <span>there for James, helping with the arrangements, keeping everyone fed, and above all, comforting a distraught Sirius and James, who had both taken to drinking every waking minute of the day. Peter supplied the booze and he kept them hydrated. In the mornings, he waited patiently for them to stumble downstairs, fresh bottles of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ogden’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> finest carefully placed in front of him. A fortnight in, Sirius was drinking more than ever but James had stopped entirely; finally, when the two of them had drunk enough to wrest the vast expanse of their misery into badly-mangled boxes, Peter was there waiting, trunks packed and ready to depart for Hogwarts. But while it looked as though he had collected all the essentials, he could not help but notice that a small part of James seemed to have been left behind forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, this seemed to Peter a remarkable improvement. James’ high spirits returned and his Quidditch skills remained unmatched, but he was now a better listener, less frivolous, and singularly focused on outdoing himself. Peter’s gut had told him there was cause to worry, but then James spotted Lily and he sidled up to her asking, as unapologetically as ever, if she had finally come to terms with her love for him and if so, he would be delighted to stand there with his arms open to catch her as she swooned. Peter had informed his gut, firmly and with no room for protest, that everything was back to normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A week later, James and Lily raised their hands in Transfiguration together and Professor McGonagall responded by raising her eyebrows in expectant annoyance for James to shout the answer before a certain someone could. Divination’s final peg of credibility was dashed that day, for James simply waited in silence to be called upon. A shadow passed over Professor McGonagall’s face; but as quickly as it had tightened her mouth, it disappeared. She nodded to Lily for an answer instead. James did not protest, bobbing his head absentmindedly as Lily supplied the correct answer, exasperation yielding to surprise on her face. This lasted a full week, during which Sirius nearly lost his mind and won a month’s worth of detention in his attempts to lure, what he called, the pansy out of James. It was also during this week that Lily and James were ushered to one desk by a sentimental Flitwick for Charms. Lily managed to make the basketful of dying flowers bloom at the first sweep of her wand and James looked at her, eyes bright in wonder, and told her it was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best fucking thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d seen in his life. Lily very nearly smiled and, in a voice as delighted as he looked, said that it really fucking was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there was the fact that they had somehow managed to not kill themselves two months into working together as Heads. Peter had accompanied Remus to one of the meetings for a laugh, but what he saw inside the Prefect’s room drove him right back out. James had been leaning against the wall, hands crossed against his chest, listening with rapt attention as Lily spoke. Every now and then, he would chime in with a quip or a reminder, but otherwise, he was utterly content sharing his spotlight. Peter felt sick as he watched James’ eyes, soft and wistful, wander over Lily’s face as she spoke. When she relinquished the floor to him, James mock-bowed and, at the same time, Lily mock-curtseyed, as though they had rehearsed teasing each other for years and years. Lily rewarded James with a small, uninhibited laugh that, looking back, should have set off all the Sneakoscope in the castle. If that wasn’t bad enough, Peter should definitely have known that night, when James’ face was adorned with a permanent grin and he had jokes and stories enough to keep all of Gryffindor tower warm and entertained in the aftermath of one of the coldest nights Hogwarts had ever known. Peter had spotted Lily in a corner, sitting on the armchair by the fire with all her friends and staring at James inscrutably, as though trying to puzzle out a great mystery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But being friends, Peter remembered reasoning, was not the same as being together. In fact, it was much, much worse because James was constantly presented with the object of his desire. And so, Peter made peace with the wayward glances James threw Lily, at the lingering touches as they passed each other notes, at the significantly longer “meetings” the two were holed up in – even at the way the two seemed to be able to draw laughter out of each other at the end of days when everyone else was too exhausted to move. Peter could soothe himself with the knowledge that Lily could never fall for James. She was far too intelligent and far too proud to succumb to such transparent charms, precisely because she had been subjected to them for so many years that she may as well have developed an immunity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, hard as he tried, Peter could not deny that Lily, too, had long stopped snapping at James. The two had begun to spend a lot of time together. Strangely, James did not celebrate their newfound closeness in the way he would have a year ago. When Peter had prodded him about whether or not Lily had turned him down recently, hoping to elicit one of the reliably stupid responses that spawned pranks of the sort that would have Lily giving James one of her famous dressing downs, James had not answered, simply acknowledging Peter’s question with an easy smile. Sirius had shouted that the future Mrs. Prongs had yet to duel him for James’ hand and, with no hesitation, James had leaned forward and shouted right back that Lily Evans could take Sirius any day of the week. Sirius demanded compensation for his slighted honour, knocking James to the ground with a loud yell. Peter did not miss the quiet happiness emanating from Remus while the other two playfully wrestled on the ground, which confirmed that for the first time ever, Sirius, in all seriousness, had referred to Lily as James’ future wife as though it was an inevitability.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was how Peter found himself strolling through the castle under the Invisibility Cloak at eleven at night, the day before Christmas. Lily and James had been tasked with overseeing the decoration for the Great Hall. James had been wracking his brain trying to come up with a present for Lily – Peter had found discarded lists of gift-ideas, satisfied that they were abysmal in the way he would expect all James’ attempts at being thoughtful to be. Peter reassured himself that this unfortunate relationship was bound to implode; between school and the pressure on every bloke to put his best foot forward during the holidays, tonight would be the night disaster struck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Disappointingly, when he got to the Hall, James and Lily were levitating stars onto gigantic trees and chattering away exactly the way they did in the Tower every night now. Peter waited patiently, convinced James would drop the ball. When the clock struck midnight, James pulled out a small set of teacups, making Peter almost whoop with delight. He held his breath, waiting for Lily to smash the ridiculous trinkets to the ground or, even better, to burst into tears and run out of the hall. Instead, she looked at James, fierce and beautiful, and asked him </span>
  <em>
    <span>what’d you have to go ahead and do this for? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peter strained his ears as James, holding Lily’s gaze, said in a voice that was both uncertain and pained, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because, Lily, I wouldn’t have gotten through it if I only had the pain to remember them by. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lily's gaze had cleared, as though she had been given the final piece of her puzzle, and she pulled James close and kissed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter was transfixed in horror, unable to look away or move. When he finally tore his eyes from the uncensored delight on Lily and James’ faces, he quickly slipped out of the room and slowly made his way back. Peter’s brain felt like it had slowed to a halt; it refused to wrap itself around what had just transpired. He had only ever wanted for James to be denied one thing, as proof that the universe was not wholly unfair. Because if James could have everything, then surely that meant that he, Peter, could just as easily have nothing at all. It could mean that he would spend the rest of his life an inferior, without any money, fame, or glory to speak of. And that, thought Peter grimly, was more than any man should have to bear.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>